


Gettin' Freaky With the Fish Guy

by mechahotwings



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Fishing, Oral Sex, and then you eat it, brief fish death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechahotwings/pseuds/mechahotwings
Summary: In this world, it's eat and get eaten. (This is not YGOTAS I swear I just think the title is funny.)
Relationships: Kajiki Ryouta | Mako Tsunami/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Gettin' Freaky With the Fish Guy

**Author's Note:**

> Who's writing about minor Yu-Gi-Oh characters again? It's meeeee. Not to knock on the Kaiba/Reader writers, but I want to see some other characters getting fics, dammit, so have this quickie.

The boats bobbed gently in the water, rising and falling as if they were living, breathing things. A breeze tousled your hair as you kept walking across the dock, trying to find the vessel that was going to take you out fishing. Finally, you found it. Calling it a boat seemed too insulting; this was a proud ship that was of medium size. A flag flapped at the prow: a great wave with a red sun blazing behind. There was a man leaning against the railing, looking out to the deep ocean with striking blue eyes.

He was tan and muscular and his mane of black hair was barely contained in both a headband and ponytail. At the sound of your footsteps, he turned and noticed your hesitation. The man gave you a friendly grin.  
“Are you the one who booked the fishing trip with me this morning?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” You had to use your hand to shield your eyes from the sun's glare. “I'm really bad with names. Sorry, but who are you again?” 

“No worries.” He chuckled, lowering the gangplank. “My name's Mako.” 

You introduced yourself to him and climbed aboard his ship. Mako raised the gangplank, confident and sure footed. “You're the only person who's claimed this time slot. I guess most people don't want to fish on a Tuesday morning.” He began to untie his ship from the dock, his hands making quick work of the knots. 

“Not even the tourists?” 

“Tourist season is just about over.” Stepping over to a bench along the railing, he pulled up the cushions to reveal hidden storage. “Want a life vest?” He asked, throwing a look over his shoulder. 

“Nope.” 

Mako shut the compartment and went to the helm of the ship. The engine roared to life, and you slowly began to reverse, pulling away from the dock. It felt as if the ship was drifting rather than being driven; there was a fair amount of activity and Mako had to navigate slowly to avoid collisions. You sat on the bench and leaned against the railing, which was warm in the sunlight. Finally, the ship had cleared the congested traffic and began picking up speed. 

White plumes of water were kicked up by the propellers and the ship bounced upon the waves. Salt spray was sent flying, spattering on your skin and clothes. For half an hour, Mako steered the ship out to sea. The sand of the nearby beach had long disappeared over the horizon, as had the dock. Vibrations of the engine died out as the ship was turned off and the anchor was lowered. 

Mako reemerged from the helm and opened a locker containing fishing poles. He assembled two of them and handed one to you. “Do you know how to cast?” 

You smiled. “Nope.” 

“Alright, let me show you.” He walked to the edge of the boat and you followed. There was a bucket, and he popped open the lid. A horrific smell wafted out, and he reached in to pull out a chunk of fish and baited his hook. “You release the line like this.” He flipped a lever down by the reel. “Then you bring it in and toss it out.” Mako drew back then cast his lure far out into the water. “And just flip it back.” He returned the lever to its original position then affixed the pole to a clamp on the railing. 

You copied his movements, trying not to grimace as your fingers went into the bait bucket. After successfully casting out your line, there was nothing to do but wait. 

Mako untied the sash around his waist so that his blue shirt hung open, revealing the lean muscles inside. He gave a languid stretch, his arms reaching skyward, putting his physique on display. You averted your eyes, your cheeks suddenly warm. 

“When's the last time you fished?” He leaned over the railing, his eyes where the sky met the sea. 

“Years ago. I don't really remember.” 

“And you decided to come out on a Tuesday morning because…?” 

“Why not?” You shrugged. “I'm off today, and I felt like going out.” 

He chuckled. “As good a reason as any.” 

There was a tug on his line then, the fishing pole's tip bending with the pull of the fish. Mako reeled it in, and you took a moment to admire how strong his arms were, his biceps bulging in the exertion of cranking the handle, the thin sheen of sweat on his skin-- you licked your lips and turned your attention back to your own rod. Nothing. 

There was a splash and a wriggling red fish, as long as your forearm, was pulled aboard. Mako unhooked it, and instead of releasing it, he took a knife out of his shorts pocket and cut its gills in one clean slice. Its blood trickled to the deck and then the fish stilled. “My lunch.” Mako grinned before putting it in a cooler full of ice. 

“How often do you eat what you catch?” You asked. 

“As often as I can. It makes the meal better.” 

The two of you continued to fish for another hour, but neither of you managed to catch anything. Not having eaten breakfast that morning, you felt your stomach rumbling unhappily. “Should we move to a different spot?” 

“Yeah, we can give that a try.” Mako agreed, reeling in his hook completely. You did the same and watched him go back to the helm. The engine sputtered and whined, but didn't start. “Come on.” He groaned, slapping the dashboard with the palm of his hand. Two more attempts were made to get the engine to turn, but they were futile. For now, you were both stuck. “I'm going below deck. Should have this sorted in no time.” Mako muttered, tromping his way down the stairs. 

“No time” stretched into an hour, during which you still didn't catch a damn thing. The hunger you felt gnawed more insistently upon you, and you grimaced. Looking up, you saw that the sun was almost at its zenith, so the whole morning had passed. After a second hour, there was still no word from Mako and you had given up fishing. You thought of the fresh fish in the ice chest. Surely Mako wouldn't get mad if you cooked him lunch (and by extension, yourself)? 

Even though you hadn't known how to cast a reel, you did know how to prepare a fish. There was a table that had all the implements you needed to scale and gut his catch. It was labor intensive and it stank, but it was rewarding to get the fish ready for cooking. You headed downstairs, which as you guessed, was living quarters. The ship wasn't new, but rather dated. The kitchen appliances were white and the wooden cabinets were a little scuffed. Altogether, it felt very lived in, which wasn't bad. Remembering the chum bucket you reached into earlier, you went straight to the sink to wash your hands.

Taking a minute to quietly rummage through the kitchen, you discovered that Mako had a bachelor's sense of stocking a pantry and fridge. You'd need to get creative to make lunch; you were limited on spices, the milk in the fridge had spoiled (but hey, there was beer), seven different condiments were in a cabinet-- Mako was a hot mess. 

Finally, you had settled on a game plan. You put a pot of water on a burner to boil and you began to preheat the oven. The fish fillets, which had been resting on a scavenged plate, were liberally seasoned with salt and pepper on both sides, cut in halves, and then rubbed down with a thin coat of mustard. When the water in the rice pot began to boil, you covered the pot and put the heat on lot low. You put the fish in the oven when it had come up to temperature, then sat at the kitchen table booth to wait more. 

The food wasn't quite ready when Mako emerged from the engine room at the back of the ship. He arched a brow at you when he saw you drinking his beer. His fingers were stained black and there was an oily smear on his cheek, just above his scar. “I see you've made yourself at home.” He drawled. 

“You left me alone for three hours.” There was no hostility in your voice, but Mako had the decency to look apologetic. Just then, the timer went off on your phone, and he finally noticed that you were actually using his kitchen for more than stealing his booze. “Wash your hands. I made lunch.” You scooted out from the booth and took the fish out of the oven. Mako looked bewildered as you plated up the simple meals for the two of you. He didn't argue, but washed the grease from his fingers and you got out the knives and forks. Courtesy made you wait to eat until he was seated. 

Mako dug into his meal with all the tact of a shark: none. It was disconcerting to watch him guzzle down food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, using his utensils to shovel the food into his maw. You had to ignore him for your own sake; your eyes were glued to your own food. 

“This is really good.” He gushed. Food was still in his mouth and you could hear it. 

At least he's pretty. You thought wryly. 

“How'd you make it?” 

“With mustard.” 

“Mustard.” Mako repeated, as if you had said something genius. 

A smirk tugged at your lips as you heard him get up for a second helping of fish before you had even finished your plate. He devoured his seconds with the same gusto. When the sounds of chewing died away and you had finished eating, you took a chance and looked up. Mako was leaning back at the booth, eyes closed, completely content, with a hand on his abdomen-- which had washboard abs. Splayed out as he was, his form left almost nothing to the imagination. 

As he stirred, you averted your gaze and he gathered up the dirty plates and dumped them into the sink. 

“Thanks for the meal.” Mako grinned. I think I figured out what was wrong with the engine, so we should be good to return. Would you like to join me at the helm? I'll even let you drive.” 

“Are you sure you want me driving this thing?” 

“Oh yeah, it'll be fine.” He hoisted you up by your arm and you followed him back onto the deck. 

The helm was… confusing. The space itself was little more than a closet. Different controls lit up and blinked when you started the engine. Needles on dials went up from zero. The steering wheel was a big, chrome thing hot from the sunlight. Due to the lack of room, Mako was pressed close to you. 

*Alright, we need to go north.” 

Your eyes flitted over the control panel, seeking out the compass. He tapped it with a fingertip. The red side of the needle was pointing directly behind you, so you'd have to turn the ship around. 

“This--” he reached out to a lever with a sideways grip at the top “--is kind of like the gear shift of a car. See that it's in the middle? We're in ‘park’ right now.” 

“Okay.” You pushed the lever forwards and the ship lurched into motion. Turning the steering wheel was easy enough; it offered little resistance as you went hand over hand, slowly spinning towards the north. When the compass pointed straight ahead, you straightened out the path then brought the lever further towards the front so the engine picked up speed. 

After several minutes, you sneaked a glance at him to see that his eyes were on you, rather than out the window. As his blue eyes met yours, his lips stretched to a grin. 

“Weirdo.” You muttered. 

Mako laughed heartily, then leaned forward, his hands covering yours on the wheel. “You're losing your heading.” He chided, correcting your course. Glancing down at the compass, you realized that you were heading only slightly eastward. The thought of calling him out on his bullshit crossed your mind, but then you felt his chest pressing against your back. He was warm and smelled of diesel and sea water, but it wasn't unpleasant. 

“Maybe once we dock the ship, you would give me the pleasure of your company?” Mako's voice was soft in your ear, and you could feel his breath stirring your hair. You leaned into him, just a little, wanting to feel his weight flat against your shoulder blades. 

“Do you usually proposition ladies who come fishing with you?” You asked dryly. 

“Only the ones who cook for me.” One of his thumbs was rubbing a circle around your wrist bone. The pad was rough, but that only added to the heat flowing through your veins. 

“Yeah? How often is that?” 

Mako gave you a light chuckle. “Just you.” 

As you drew nearer to the dock, Mako took over the controls and you stepped out of his way. Maneuvering the ship took finesse and experience that you lacked. When the engine stopped, he tied the ship up with practiced ease, then turned to you, catching you looking at his butt. 

He stepped towards you and unceremoniously scooped you into his arms as if it was nothing. You let out an indignant squawk, and he laughed as he made his way downstairs into the living quarters. Mako carried you to a room at the front of the ship, opening the door to reveal a modest bedroom. The sheets were unmade, but at least the room was clean. Springs inside the mattress squealed in protest as you were dumped on the bed. 

As you tried to take a moment to reorient yourself, lips pressed into yours, firm and insistent. Enthusiastically, you kissed back, your fingers burying into Mako's black mane, pulling him closer. He braced himself with his arms on the mattress as he leaned over you, making your head tilt all the way back. 

Mako straightened, standing at the edge of the bed and shrugging his blue vest onto the floor. Your eyes flicked over him, drinking in his form, noticing how the light curved around his physique. You grabbed him by his narrow hips, swinging him so that he fell back onto the mattress, and his laugh was breathless as you pounced upon him, your lips trailing from his jaw and over his throat. His hands crept up your shirt, coarse palms sliding over your back. 

You made open mouthed kisses along his collarbone, one of your hands sliding down over his chest, fingers falling into the divots between muscles until you reached his navel. He tasted of salt, and you nipped his heated flesh, making his breath hitch. 

You inched down his shorts, which were in fact swim trunks, revealing the deep “v” that was making the plunge from his hip bones to lower-- 

“How is that fair?” Mako asked, pulling your attention up to his face, his hands on either side of your cheeks. “When you haven't undressed at all?” He peppered kisses along the side of your neck. You reached down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside. His large hands palmed at you through your bra, pressing your breasts against you. Mako then slipped his hands underneath your bra, enveloping the flesh in warmth. He gave a gentle squeeze, and you sighed, reaching behind yourself to undo the clasps. The brassiere came away, slipping down your shoulders, then Mako pulled it the rest of the way off your arms before pushing it onto the floor. 

Fingers hardened by work slid along from your hips, up to your ribs, then he was groping your chest again. His thumbs slid over the stiff peaks of your nipples. A small sound trickled out of your mouth, and he pulled the sensitive buds. You reached down, grabbing the stiffening bulge through his swim trunks. Then your hand was gone as you sat up, kicking off your shoes and peeling off your socks before undressing fully. Mako watched with rapt attention as you hooked your fingers into his waistband, pulling down his shorts. 

His cock sprang free; the dusky skin pulled into a tight, veiny pillar that was long and thick. Before you could feel him in your hands, he was pulling you up farther onto the bed, gripping your forearms. Mako pulled you in for another kiss, then spoke with his voice low and playful. “I think I'll eat you for dessert.” 

“Still hungry, huh?” You drawled, getting up onto your hands and knees. “But dessert does sound good.” It took a moment to position yourselves; you were straddling Mako's face, his hands gripping your thighs as he delved forwards into your sex. His lips brushed against yours almost tenderly, then he was making gentle, sucking kisses on either side of your labia. You sighed into his touch, then leaned forwards onto your elbows. With a light hand, you grasped his shaft in one hand and cupped his testes in the other, rolling them over your fingers. A muscle in his thigh twitched as you brought your face closer to the head. 

You puckered your lips and planted a kiss on the slit. A clear bead of pre slipped out and you wicked it away with your tongue. Mako spread you with a hand and you felt his mouth fan hot breath over your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Finally, his mouth descended, his flat tongue lapping at your clit. His cock slid into your mouth and you sucked on it, your cheeks hollowing around the length. 

It was hard to concentrate on what you were doing while Mako worked underneath you, his lips pressed against your labia as his tongue made curling gestures. But you tried. Your tongue was sliding along the front of his shaft as you bobbed your head on his length, going further and further down with each breath. You continued to roll his balls with one hand and then the head of his prick was sliding into your throat. Mako let out a shaky exhalation onto your pussy before gently suckling your clit. 

A moan made its way out of you, sending vibrations down Mako's length as he slid deeper inside you. Finally the base of his shaft met your lips and you heard a tremulous "Fuck" whispered against your skin. Your lips curled into a smirk around his cock, tightening the ring of muscles. 

A finger delved into your entrance, curling and pumping in tandem. A breath escaped your nose as you continued, determined to drive your partner towards his climax. The pace of your bobbing head increased and a second finger was added into your hole. Your hips bucked out of reflex and Mako used his free hand to steady you, his palms pressing into the globes of your ass. 

Mako's tongue flicked against your clit and you whined, the sound making him hiss. He pumped his fingers more ardently in and out of your pussy, the action making an obscene, wet sound. Your fingers pulled at his sack gently and then the muscles in his thighs were rippling. Hot, salty cum spurted out of his dick and down into your throat and you swallowed down all that he had to give. His member exited your mouth with a soft pop and he shuddered, panting. But he wasn't done yet. 

He buried himself into your folds with a renewed vigor, stretching you with a third finger as he lapped at your clit. You came quickly, the building pressure in your loins bursting into an orgasm. Your hips trembled as Mako's sturdy arms wrapped around you and pulled you up to him. He kissed you deeply and you tasted yourself on his lips. 

"I think we should go fishing again." He said, his chest heaving. With the firmness of his grip around you, it felt that he didn't want you leaving any time soon. And you were tired and sunburnt and totally fine with that.

"Mm?" You feigned coyness. "I'll sleep on it." You pressed your cheek onto his chest and draped a leg over his. 

And Mako agreed, reaching for his pillow and stuffing it under his head before settling down again.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, bookmarks, and constructive criticism are always appreciated. (Don't just say I suck; tell me why!)


End file.
